Sugar and Spice
by Wonkavite
Summary: An unexpected sideeffect occurs when Willy Wonka, on Charlie's insistence, decides to test some candy. The result? Willy turns into a... now that would be telling Please Review!
1. Quality Control

Sugar and Spice

Disclaimer: Willy Wonka and his fantastic chocolate factory is the property of Roald Dahl and Warner Brothers pictures. We have made no profit from this fiction and do not plan to. No legal action is necessary. Thank you.

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_Chapter one – Quality Control_

"Not again!" sighed Charlie as yet another Oompa Loompa, wearing an expression of extreme annoyance, started turning blue.

"Oh, fiddlesticks! I can never get this thing _right!_" Wonka mumbled. "Must have too much blueberry extract in it again… Heh, we'll try again with a weaker dose," He muttered while pulling levers and scribbling in his notebook. Charlie rubbed his temples in annoyance as he approached his mentor. Why did Willy have to be so… _cruel_ to his workers? The way he treated them was comparable to… _slavery!_ He shot Willy a sharp look and pouted slightly before commenting,

"Mr. Wonka… couldn't we just give up on this invention? I mean – look at him!" exclaimed Charlie, pointing to the bulbous Oompa Loompa now being rolled to the river exit. "What you are – we are – doing," Charlie corrected – blaming Willy solely would only lead to the chocolatier becoming defensive, "It's, well, it's like torture!"

"Give up?" said Willy, bemused. "I don't know how…" Charlie sighed again. Willy was impossible. "Give up isn't in my vocabulary!" Wonka declared. Charlie smirked.

"You just said it, twice."

"Now you're just being facetious, Charlie. If the phrase is not in my vocabulary, then clearly I could not have said it." Replied Wonka with an arrogant sniff. "Pass me the roast beef, would you?" he asked, pointing at a row of brightly coloured jars labeled in his own meticulous handwriting. Charlie did so with little grace.

"Whatever." He huffed. Then an idea sparked in his mind. He'd have to play Willy's games to get results. "I bet I know why you always test your inventions on the Oompa Loompas."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Charlie smiled, "You're _scared_ of what it might do to you. So you test it on them. You're a _coward._" Willy's eyes widened. _Him? A coward? _"Yeah, I bet you don't have the courage to face the juicing room yourself." Added Charlie in a sneering tone.

"I do too!" retorted Wonka. "However, if I was temporarily incapacitated, the productivity of the factory would be seriously hampered."

"Plus, you're frightened." Added Charlie. That was the last straw. Willy had had enough of this, from his own apprentice no less!

"I am _not_ and I'll prove it!" he announced. "It just so happens that I've been working on a new candy for Valentine's Day."

"Oh, really?" asked Charlie, interested despite himself. "What's it like?"

"It's… well, I don't know." Willy replied, "See, I'm going to make a girl version and a boy version. The girl version's supposed to be sweet and the boy version… I don't know yet." He stumbled. "But I've been working on it. Here's the first piece. I was about to test it on an…" He stopped that train of thought when Charlie sent a glare his way. "But _I'll_ test it!" He assured, popping the small, round candy into his mouth. "See?"

"What's it taste like?" asked Charlie.

"Well, since it's for girls, I put sugar and spice in it," said Willy, trying to hide his disgust. "So I added cinnamon and sugar and some extra spices…"

"Such as…?" asked Charlie. Willy racked his brain trying to remember.

"Nutmeg and allspice. And then some nice things. Like Grapes. Grapes are nice."

"Grapes and allspice…" Charlie said slowly. "It sounds gross."

"It is, actually." Said Willy, giving up on hiding his disgust and pulling a face. "Ew…"

"Spit it out." Charlie suggested. Willy shook his head 'no.'

"Not yet. Even if it's really _gross_ I need to figure out how to fix it!" doing his best to discern what else was off about the candy, other than the horrid taste.

"Well, when it comes to cinnamon, allspice, and nutmeg… wouldn't apples or bananas go better?" Charlie tried. Apples and cinnamon usually went well together… "Maybe even pumpkin. Like in pumpkin pie." Willy was still sucking on the candy, trying not to vomit. A sudden intake of breath caused him to accidentally swallow the vile thing and a chorus of obscene coughing. "Are you okay, Mr. Wonka?" Charlie asked, moving towards him and thanking the powers that be that he actually paid attention in health class when they were teaching the Heimlich maneuver, in case he needed it. It didn't look like he needed it after all. Wonka finally stopped choking on it and looked at Charlie, his face paler than usual.

"A-okay…" He said weakly. "That's the last time I take advice from Grandma Georgina." Charlie sighed, relieved.

"At least you know what it feels like to be a tester now!" Charlie smiled. The image of his mentor choking was rather amusing, now that all was well. Willy made a face.

"Yeah… Charlie, pass me some water, would you?" asked Willy, turning slightly green. "My throat hurts – must have put too much cinnamon in it."

"Sure." Charlie said, trying to hide his smile but failing miserably. Charlie got up and fetched him some water from the water cooler. Willy drank it, happy to finally purge his delicate taste buds of the offending flavor.

"Though you know, you'll have to test candies too if you don't want to test them on the Oompa Loompas." Willy pointed out, smirking at the thought of Charlie also having to taste things that were not necessarily _good._ Charlie's smile froze. He hadn't thought of _that_.

"Sure," He said bravely. "At least I've convinced you to try and treat the Oompa Loompa testers a little better." Willy nodded in response and yawned.

"What time is it?"

"Seven-thirty."

"I'm bushed - I'm going to bed." Said Willy.

"Already?" asked Charlie skeptically.

"Of course." Willy replied. "I get up at five every morning. I have to. Or else the Oompa Loompas will play tricks on me."

"What do you mean?"

"They sneak into my room and prank me. You know that old one with the whipped cream and the feather? Yeah. Lots of others. I told you those little boogers are mischievous!" Willy smiled in the dreamy way he always did when talking about the Oompa Loompas.

"Okay." Said Charlie, a little afraid of the Oompa Loompas and now wondering if the 'pranking' was some kind of subtle retaliation for the candy testing. "Goodnight!"

"Goodnight!" Willy said in a sing-song voice and waved. Charlie left the room and went back to his house via river boat. Willy quickly jotted down that the candies he was developing should have less cinnamon if they were going to be sweet. He put the pen down and got up, stretching and yawning. _Ding! _The great glass elevator signaled that it was there. Willy walked over to it and got in, pushing the button labeled 'Secret Room' and he was off, zipping through the factory towards his private quarters. Willy looked through the floor of the elevator as the rooms around him dropped away. Gosh, but he _was_ tired tonight - More so than usual. Perhaps it was all the brainstorming earlier. Or it could have been the argument with Charlie. The elevator stopped with another _ding!_ and Willy stepped off. He came upon a very ordinary looking wall and knocked on it while saying "Shave and a haircut!" The wall answered with two resounding thumps and a door appeared. His really was a secret room…

Willy stepped into the room and clapped his hands twice, the lights turning on at his signal. He stretched a little before crossing to his full-length mirror and admiring his appearance. Removing his hat, he struck a pose and flashed his most debonair grin at the mirror. Although he would openly admit it to no one, Willy Wonka was proud as a peacock of his appearance. Most people had, of course, already guessed this. Shaking his head at his own vanity he tossed the top hat over a hook on the coat rack and shrugged out of his coat. Wonka picked up a remote control and struck another pose as he pushed the play button letting music fill the room.

_What are you lookin' at?_ He mouthed and began unbuttoning his waistcoat in time with the music. The music began picking up and he was soon shaking his hips and lip synching along with Madonna. Willy flipped off the waistcoat by the first chorus, throwing it over his shoulder. Singing along, he deposited his gold cufflinks on his vanity and proceeded to unbutton the undershirt.

_Strike a pose!_ He turned and pointed one violet finger at his reflection in the mirror, his shirt halfway open and loose. He continued his little dance and removed the shirt. He threw it in a pile with his waistcoat and pulled a silk pyjama top from his wardrobe, pulling it on in time to the music. As he continued to undress to the music, Willy lost himself to the song and Vogued perfectly in time to the stereo and the memorized video in his head.

As the music ended, Willy regarded himself in the mirror, silk-clad and looking _good._ "I guess candy isn't bad for the complexion after all." He muttered, winking to the mirror. He flicked the remote at the stereo again and turned off the music as he crawled into bed. Placing the remote on the bedside table, he donned his nightcap and snuggled into the cool cotton sheets as he drifted off to dreamland.

* * *

Willy awoke late the next morning feeling well rested. He snuggled comfortably into the covers, the soft cotton brushing against his skin and tempting him to stay in bed all day. No! That would never do - the candy wouldn't invent itself. Willy bounced out of bed, seemingly awake and alert. He sat up and stretched, letting out a loud yawn. Scratching the back of his head, he made his way into the bathroom to brush his teeth and relieve himself. 

When Willy saw his reflection in the mirror, he noticed that there was something… different. First of all, his pyjama top was looking a lot tighter than it should have. At first he chuckled softly and assumed that the Oompa Loompas had managed to sneak in earlier and stuff his shirt full of socks or something very similar. _"Oh, you guys,"_ thought Willy, grinning to himself and reaching into his top to remove the foreign objects. It was while he did this that he made a very important discovery.

Those breasts he saw in the mirror were not socks. They were real, and they were attached to him.

He made a frenzied sound and laughed nervously. Surely he was still asleep! He splashed his face with water from the sink, but nothing happened. He pinched himself. Still nothing. Suddenly, a very dark thought crossed his mind. Tentatively, he peered over the new protrusions on his chest and stretched the front of his pants open. Looking down, his nightmares were realized and he let out a blood-curdling scream.

After a few moments, he realised that there was something very wrong with the high-pitched, fluty shriek issuing forth from his mouth. Clamping his mouth shut, he scrambled over to the mirror and examined his face. He looked tired, but also a little... prettier? His jaw line was softer and his hand, still clamped to his chin, was not brushing against the usual early morning stubble. Realisation reared its ugly head and Willy removed his pyjama top to confirm his suspicions, his eyes never leaving his face. Slowly, he chanced a look downward.

Either he'd developed the most extraordinary chest muscles over the last few hours, or those two lumps were... Willy looked back at the mirror. A skinny woman's torso wearing his head and pyjama bottoms at half-mast looked back at him.

"Ew," mouthed Willy, prodding one breast experimentally as if sure it would disappear when faced with something as real as touch. Taking a deep breath, Willy shimmied out of the pyjama bottoms and regarded himself critically in the mirror. There was no denying it - inexplicably, he had turned into a w… a w… a woman. His mind reeled and he stumbled forward, clutching for the sink as he fought a wave of nausea. How had this happened?

Being a genius, it did not take Willy very long to recover from his initial shock sufficiently to work out what had caused this unfortunate incident to occur.

"The girly sweets," groaned Willy. What was he... she... to do? _Think, Wonka, think!_ He commanded himself. Or herself. "First things first. Even if I look like a g... like a gir..." He stumbled, "girl I'm still a man... This is just an unusual side-effect. Bound to wear off in a day or two." He stood and glanced up and down his body, swallowing nervously as he traced the curve of his waist and hips. "Weird." Willy edged back towards the toilet, looked down at the bowl and paused. What on Earth was he supposed to do now? Hesitantly, he perched on the toilet seat, trying not to look down and praying that urination happened automatically in females.

We will not dwell on Willy's five minutes of discovery of the world of sphincter muscles and certainly the hurried shower during which the world's greatest chocolatier attempted to wash himself without actually touching his body will not be described in detail here, but suffice to say that a cleansed yet damp Willy Wonka stood in his bedroom twenty minutes later still trembling slightly at this morning's events.

His mind still not on the task, he pulled on his silk boxer shorts and was more than a little relieved to find they still fit. However, as he pulled up his trousers, he hit a snag. Or rather, the trousers caught on his hips and refused to go up any further.

"Oh no..." Wishing that he'd paid better attention in biology class and also that he'd thought to keep a few larger pairs of trousers from the great Inflating Gewgaws incident of '97, Willy tried pulling in his stomach and forcing the zip of his trousers closed. There followed a few painful minutes of panting and writhing until, hit by a flash of inspiration, he lay back on the floor and managed, through sheer dumb luck, to secure the button but not the zip of the fly. He finally managed to get the pants on after several minutes of sucking in his stomach and squirming about. The shirt was less of a problem, although he was quite sure that those _things_ were still obvious, even under the shirt. He pulled on his waistcoat, forcing the fabric tight across his chest and thanking whatever deity was currently on his side that he was small. The waistcoat effectively bound him reasonably well and as he looked critically in the mirror, Willy considered that he might possibly pass with his coat on as well.

Shrugging into his frockcoat, Willy defensively hunched his shoulders to hide his chest a little more. He still looked... different but not overtly female. Now he just had to work out what to do to his face to hide the irregularities there. He crossed to the mirror and turned up his shirt collar, hiding the lack of an Adam's apple with a careful adjustment of his brooch. He vaguely wondered if anyone would notice that he was roughly three inches shorter than usual. _Probably not_, he decided - he rarely stood still long enough for anyone to measure his height, in any case. He'd just have to keep his hat on and not stand next to people for a day or two until the sweet wore off. He adjusted the top hat and picked some imaginary dust from his coat.

Willy trotted over to his shoes and bent awkwardly to pick up a pair, the waistband of his trousers digging in horribly. As he pulled on one shoe he realised that his height wasn't the only thing that had decreased in size. His left shoe was now two sizes too big for his left foot.

"Oh bother…" Padding frantically with socks, Willy managed to fasten on a pair of old, unfashionable, sensible shoes. He missed his heeled boots instantly but knew that beggars couldn't be choosers. He suddenly became aware of the urge to burst into tears, but managed to fight it. Gripping his cane and making a few final adjustments to his appearance, Willy considered that, given the circumstances, he looked _damn good_. He headed down to the Chocolate Room, all the while trying to ignore the stabbing pain at his waist and stumbling as his feet rattled around his overlarge shoes.

* * *

"Eat up Charlie!" growled Grandpa George good-naturedly. 

"Yes gramps," sighed Charlie, helping himself to another piece of toast. He couldn't understand why his family kept trying to overfeed him - he was certainly not starving anymore.

"I wonder where Mr. Wonka is this morning?" wondered Mr. Bucket aloud. At that moment, Willy walked through the door.

"Speak of the devil..." Grandpa George muttered.

"Hi," said Willy tentatively. He waved and pointed to his throat.

"Too much cinnamon?" asked Charlie. Willy nodded gratefully and moved as if to sit down, but thought better of it.

"I don't suppose there's any chance of an explanation?" asked Grandpa George gruffly. Charlie came once again to Willy's rescue. Willy silently praised whatever gods there were for small wonders. As his apprentice told the tale of the candy testing scenario, Willy shifted uneasily. He was absolutely ravenous, the smell of bacon and toast driving him crazy, but his stomach was still being pinched by the trousers - he had hoped they would have stretched on the way down. Mrs. Bucket handed him a side plate of toast and he took a piece, nibbling on it slowly and forcing himself to swallow. His chest felt compressed and eating was proving to be quite a chore. Mrs. Bucket noted something wasn't quite right about the chocolatier and eyed him worriedly. He gave her a slight smile. Charlie's story ended to kind laughter and Willy politely put down the slice of toast before patting his stomach.

"I guess I'll see you all later," said Willy quietly, trying to keep his voice as low as possible and walking to the door. He was halfway through it when Charlie's voice stopped him.

"Mr. Wonka?" said Charlie.

"Yes?"

"Have you shrunk? Only, normally you have to duck to get through the door with your top hat on and you don't have to now."

Willy glanced up and realised that he hadn't ducked as he was accustomed to do on leaving the Bucket household.

"Gosh darn it Charlie, I wasn't going to tell you," he sighed, looking down.

"Tell me what?" asked Charlie.

"That candy, it made me shrink a bit. Unexpected side-effects," lied Willy quickly, relieved that strange side-effects were commonplace after candy-testing.

"Oh - is that why your coat doesn't fit?"

"Yes Charlie. I'm just off to my office to do some paperwork. Ciao," said Willy with a smile, rushing out of the house. As he reached the elevator, he gave a gasp at the pain from his feet and stood rubbing his ankle for a moment. He heard footsteps approaching from the swudge behind him. Willy turned to see Mrs. Bucket walking towards him, a plate of breakfast in her right hand and a worried expression on her face.

"Willy..." Mrs. Bucket began, walking towards him. He stared at her and tried to hide his slight fear. "You barely ate. Are you all right?"

"Y-yes, I'm just fine..." Willy replied, cursing inwardly when his voice betrayed his fear and squeaked slightly. He stumbled into the elevator and leaned against the glass, groaning inwardly when Mrs. Bucket followed him. She was one determined woman! Willy pushed the button for his office, with Mrs. Bucket in tow. Once there, he opened the door to the office and ushered her in. He couldn't help but smirk when he said "Ladies first."

"So, are you going to tell me what's wrong or not?" said Mrs. Bucket with a slight pout. She was concerned at this sudden lack of appetite - ordinarily, the chocolatier would have wolfed down as much toast and jam as possible.

"It's not... It's..." He failed. Forlornly, he made to sit in his chair when a very loud, very obvious sound permeated the room.

_R-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-p! _Silence resettled on the office. Willy sat rigidly for a full minute before he broke into a sob.

"What is it dear?" asked Mrs. Bucket.

"I ripped my trousers!" wailed Willy.

"I heard. I can sew them for you - then the problem's solved!"

"No it's no-o-ot!" hiccupped Willy.

"What do you mean?"

"They ripped because... becaaaaaauuuuse..." He blubbered. Mrs. Bucket exercised her patience perfectly.

"Is this why you skipped breakfast? Because you're putting on weight?" asked Mrs. Bucket carefully.

"No - it's not that. I'm... I've..."

"Yes?" Mrs. Bucket laid a gentle, comforting hand on Willy's arm. His sobs continued as she counted to ten, giving him time to answer.

"I've become a... g... a gi..." He struggled. "I'MAGIRL!" It came out very quickly, but Mrs. Bucket didn't miss a syllable. There ensued a very awkward silence, only slightly disrupted by Willy's quiet sobbing.

* * *

**Notes;**

-For obvious reasons, we will continue to refer to Willy as a 'he' regardless of what his anatomy looks like. It's just confusing to call him her!

-We figure Charlie would prefer to go home from the Inventing Room by river boat because, let's face it. That damn boat is _cool._ And – Chocolate Rapids. Need we say more?

-Madonna also does not belong to us. Plus, we really don't want to own her anyway.

-Factoid; there really was a button titled "Secret Room" in the elevator for Burton's movie. We shall be using more of the buttons from that list.

-Hope you liked this first chapter. More silliness to come! Please review, we adore feedback.

 Wonkavite 


	2. Emergency Pants & Unisex Bras

Sugar and Spice

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Disclaimer: Willy Wonka and his fantastic chocolate factory is the property of Roald Dahl and Warner Brothers pictures. We have made no profit from this fiction and do not plan to. No legal action is necessary. Thank you.

* * *

_Chapter two – Emergency Pants & Unisex Bras_

Mrs Bucket stared at him. _Had she heard correctly?_ There was no doubt about it, Willy Wonka had said it; he was a girl.

"When?"

"Last night!" wailed Willy. "When I woke up this morning, I was… I was _different!_"

"O…kay…" Mrs Bucket answered, only a _little_ confused. "What do you mean _different?_" Willy stared at her. Surely she hadn't just said that.

"What do you think?" He spluttered.

"Well, what makes you think you're a girl?" Willy gaped at her and shook his head.

"Certain bits are… no longer where they should be, and other bits are definitely on a grander scale that before!"

"Certain bits…?" Mrs Bucket answered, suppressing a smile.

"This isn't funny!" Willy shouted. Mrs Bucket snorted, but quickly covered it with a polite cough.

"I know, I know." She stifled a giggle and tried to remember that what was happening to Willy was every man's worst nightmare. "Is this effect permanent?"

"I should hope not!" Willy cried. "I can't stay a girl _forever!_"

"So, you're confident that the effects of the candy will wear off?"

"Yes."

"I see." Mrs Bucket began to pace the room. "Well, you should get into some pants that fit, and we'll go on from there." She folded her arms and looked at Willy. "I'll just go and get a tape measure and we'll measure you up – I can go and buy you some pants."

"No need – come with me." Said Willy, standing gingerly. He made sure nothing was visible as far as underpants went (thank goodness he wore that long frock coat!) and led her to the elevator. Mrs Bucket stepped in behind him and watched as he searched through the buttons of the elevator. "Haven't used this one in years…" he muttered. He pressed a button labeled _Emergency Pants_. Mrs Bucket raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Emergency Pants?" she asked. The elevator lurched to the left and they were on their way. Willy laughed nervously and began to explain the history of the button.

"In case of emergencies, such as fire, leeches, or this."

"Leeches…"

"Don't ask. We had an incident one Halloween. Not pretty."

"Okay…" The elevator screeched to a halt and there they were. They stepped into what looked like just an overly large janitor's closet. A tall machine stood in one corner, the size of a wardrobe and black as midnight, bright lights flashing on its surface. Nothing else was in the room, and Mrs Bucket was acutely aware that this room had been abandoned for years.

"Hope it still works," said Willy, hopping on one leg nervously. He walked over to the machine and pushed as large, green button. With a hiss of escaping air, two doors opened on the side of the machine. Hesitantly, Willy stepped through the doors and pressed another button. The large machine whirred to life, making a frightening groaning noise. Mrs Bucket was about to ask if all was well when the doors slammed shut. A bright, green light shown through the crack between them and a computerized voice announced, "Scanning." Mrs Bucket waited patiently.

"Scanning complete. Please step out and wait for your item."

Willy stepped out and whistled. "Well, that took longer than expected. I was a bit worried there for a moment." He picked up his pocket watch and looked at the time. "Not long now." Humming under his breath, Willy made a show of examining his fingernails. Mrs Bucket was going to point out that this cover action was technically impossible due to the gloves, but decided against it. Obviously, Willy did not want to talk. There was a _ding!_ and the machine spat out a pair of pants. Willy smiled, effortlessly catching them in a gloved hand. "Would you mind turning around?" he asked Mrs Bucket politely.

"Of course not." A few moments later, Willy was in his new pants. A full-size mirror sprang out from seemingly nowhere and Willy admired himself in the mirror. He let out a low whistle, flipping the coat tails to look at his rear.

"Man, I look _good..._" He whispered. Mrs Bucket smiled. She turned around and regarded the chocolatier critically. He cocked his head to one side and frowned.

"What is it, Willy?"

"Does my bum look big in this?"

"No. In fact, a lot of women would kill for your figure." She said before she could stop herself. Willy shot her a confused look.

"They'd kill for this?"

"Well, they would envy you."

"They'd envy someone who's totally in the wrong body?"

"I know I'd love to be able to fit inside those trousers."

"Women are weird."

"Get used to it," sniffed Mrs Bucket. "Now, you mentioned… other changes?"

"Well, yeah…" Willy blushed. He twiddled his thumbs uncomfortably. "Um…"

"Let me guess – boobs?" asked Mrs Bucket.

"Yeah, those." He blushed a shade redder. "They hurt." He added quietly. "They don't seem to like being hidden."

"I'm not surprised – take your coat off."

"No way!" Mrs Bucket tapped her foot.

"William Wonka…"

"Nuh-uh."

"Willy, think about it. I'm a woman, right? Don't you think I could help you?" She said in an exasperated tone.

"That would be logical…" He agreed slowly.

"So listen to me and take off your coat." Willy looked at her and swallowed. Slowly, he removed his coat, flinching as it dropped from his shoulders. Mrs Bucket stepped closer and ran her eyes over his chest. "The waistcoat too." Willy looked as though he might argue, but quickly divested himself of the garment when he saw the look on Mrs Bucket's face. He let out a sigh of relief as the tight fabric released from around his chest.

"Ow." Mrs Bucket gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Feel better?" Willy smiled.

"Well, yeah! But… it's kinda uncomfortable to leave them like this too…"

"I think you might need a bra."

"A… _what_!" Willy paled considerably.

"Bra. Um..." Mrs Bucket gestured wildly, "Underwear. Women's."

"I know what a bra _is_," Willy interjected. He shook his head. "No, I can't! I just can't!"

"You'll have to." She smirked. "Unless you want them to sag…" Willy looked as though he might faint and indeed was forced to cling to Mrs Bucket's arm for support. As the nausea passed, Willy released Mrs Bucket and unconsciously wiped his glove on his shirt sleeve.

"Sag?" he asked weakly.

"There is such a thing as gravity, after all." Replied Mrs Bucket.

"This could be a good thing. After all, I don't want anyone to know about this."

"It's going to be difficult, er, covering this up, Willy." Willy frowned. "You could hide them like you did today, but they'll hurt." Mrs Bucket said.

"Ew…"

"It might be easier if you were honest about this. For your own comfort."

"But I can't tell Charlie – he'd find it _too_ weird! And can you imagine Grandpa George's reaction?"

"I suppose."

"And my **father**?"

"True," Mrs Bucket thought for a moment. "I don't suppose you could, er, _quarantine_ yourself?"

"Who would supervise the factory? Charlie's at school all day and none of you would be able to do it."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"In that case, would it be so bad if the Oompa Loompas reported to you in your room for their orders and we just told Charlie you were – I don't know – ill with a spot of the whangdoodles or something?

"Whangdoodles are…" Willy sighed, "Oh, never mind."

"You're paranoid."

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"Look, it's my factory and no amount of bodily changes is going to stop me from running it, ok?" said Willy with a childish stamp of his foot.

"Have it your way." Mrs Bucket sighed. "But Charlie's a smart lad. He'll figure it out, mark my words."

"How? I'm sure to come up with something to disguise _these._" He waved his hand in front of his chest.

"He's already noticed you've shrunk in height."

"Yeah, but—"

"You're a horrible liar – face it."

"How'd you know?"

"Oh, please!"

"Who told you!"

"Willy, I'm a _mother_! We've got radar for that sort of thing!" Willy gasped.

"I _knew_ it!"

"Willy – just consider telling the truth to everyone. I'm sure they would be supportive. I could tell them for you if you'd like."

"No – I'll tell them. With one exception – I don't want Charlie to know. He'd freak out."

"But Willy—"

"He's only eleven. Do you really think he'd be able to cope with this?"

"I think you underestimate him."

"Whatever. Just… don't tell him. Please."

"Fine." Mrs Bucket sighed.

"Pinky promise?" Wonka held out a pinky. Mrs Bucket stared at him.

"What..?"

"You have to promise." He reached and prised up her little finger, linking it to his own with a small grin.

"You're the genius…" she sighed. "Fine, I pinky promise that I won't go out of my way to tell Charlie. But if Charlie asks, I won't lie to him." Willy paled at this. He made a strange, sort of strangled sound.

"Why not?"

"He's my son. I won't betray his trust." Willy's expression froze and for a moment it looked as though he might protest. He thought better of it, though.

"Fine." He looked down and gave a small sigh. Mrs Bucket followed his gaze and was reminded that they still needed to get him into a bra.

"Um, Willy… there's just one more thing."

"Hm?" He looked at her as though he had snapped out of a rather deep thought.

"Well, we need to do something about restraining… those." She indicated Willy's newly enlarged chest. Willy's eyes widened and he coughed nervously.

"I know just the place." He said in a hoarse voice before putting his waistcoat and frock coat back on and heading back to the elevator. Mrs Bucket followed him into the elevator and watched as he sought out a button on the wall. Casting a sideways glance to the wall, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to look at it, Willy pressed the call button for _Unisex Bras._ She opened her mouth to ask about it, but he stopped her with "Don't ask, it's a long story. I'd rather not talk about it."

"You can't expect me not to wonder." Muttered Mrs Bucket. "Has this happened before?" she pointed to his chest.

"NO!" shouted Willy as the elevator sprang into life. "It concerns the Oompa Loompas, and I am **not** going into details." Mrs Bucket let Willy know he didn't need to shout. Willy, in typical Wonka style, stuck out his tongue, folded his arms, leaned against the wall, and proceeded to sulk.

"Party-pooper." Mrs Bucket whispered under breath. Willy pretended he hadn't heard.

Finally, the elevator arrived at a room labeled _Unisex Bras._ Mrs Bucket thought about raising an inquisitive eyebrow at the lacy decoration around the room, but decided not to. Willy stepped off of the elevator first and led the curious housewife into the somewhat small room. She found herself ducking clothing rails bedecked with brassieres of all sizes and couldn't help noticing that Willy's eyes were fixed firmly on the floor. Several Oompa-Loompa females were busy at their workstations and shot amused glances in Willy's direction, momentarily abandoning their work as they motioned to each and asked what was going on. Before they could find out however, Willy raised his voice and called out to his workers,

"Lunch break! Everybody out!" The Oompa-Loompas filed out, casting furtive looks in Mrs Bucket's direction. For her part, Mrs Bucket was determined not to give away Willy's secret and kept her eyes fixed on the wall. Once they were alone, Willy exhaled slowly and removed his coat, laying it over a desk.

"Now what?"

Mrs Bucket spied a measuring tape next to a sewing machine and picked it up. "Stand up straight, Willy dear. We need to measure your chest to find out what size to give you."

"Measure my..."

"You'll need to take off your waistcoat and shirt." Willy took a bracing breath and turned his back on Mrs Bucket before swiftly removing his waistcoat and throwing it over his coat. He unbuttoned his shirt and slowly, hating the fact he had to appear half-naked, dropped the shirt to the floor, his arms hanging limply by his side. The cold air hit him, eliciting a nipple response that most women (and some men) would be all too familiar with.

"What's going on?" wailed Willy.

"It just means you're cold dear," said Mrs Bucket with a smile, bending to pick up Willy's shirt as he raised a protective arm to cover his chest. She reached for a measuring tape from one of the work stations and handed the end of it to Willy under one armpit. "Pass this underneath your breasts so we can take your measurements." Willy did as he was told and Mrs Bucket pulled the ends of the tape together behind Willy's back. "36..." she muttered.

"Is that normal?" asked Willy nervously.

"Yes, dear." laughed Mrs Bucket. "Now take this end and, well, um..."

"What? I thought you'd already measured that bit?"

"Now we need to measure over the fullest bit of the bust so we can work out your cup size."

"The fullest bit..." said Willy slowly. He positioned the tape measure appropriately and sighed impatiently as Mrs Bucket took another measurement.

"Now the difference makes you... 36B," mumbled Mrs Bucket, searching through the bras behind her. She selected one that didn't have any under wiring and handed it to Willy over his shoulder. "Try this on."

"Assuming that I'm going to have to do this myself over the next day or so, what's the easiest way to fasten it?"

"Pass it around your back, do the catch up in front, then spin the bra 'round and slip your arms into the hoops." Willy spun the bra around a tad faster than Mrs Bucket had meant and ended up with a slight friction burn.

"Ow!"

"Not so fast dear."

"I take it these _things_ get tucked into the... bonnets."

"Cups, yes." A few minutes later and Willy was secured.

"How does it look?" he asked, turning around to check with Mrs Bucket that everything was as it should be.

"Fine."

"It doesn't seem to be doing its job as far as concealing these," Willy waved a hand dismissively at his chest, "is concerned. In fact, I'd say it had made matters worse."

"It's not supposed to _conceal, _Willy. It's meant to support them. Besides, it's this or the pain."

"This." He rested a hand on each hip and raised his eyebrows at Mrs Bucket, pouting slightly as he did so. She regarded the typically female body position and laughed.

"Don't do that. Not unless you want everyone to guess straight away that you're female."

"Kay." Willy hunched his shoulders a little and shrugged into his shirt, fastening it quickly and tucking it into his trousers. As he pulled on his waistcoat, he groaned. "I told you this thing had made things worse!" He flapped one side of the waistcoat, demonstrating that the waistcoat was no longer able to be fastened.

"Give it here," said Mrs Bucket thoughtfully. She picked up a pair of scissors and regarded the waistcoat critically. "You have a spare?"

"I have ten spares. You're not going to... _hurt_ it... are you?" said Willy, wringing his hands worriedly.

"Just alter things a bit." She picked at the stitching in the darts that had formerly moulded the waistcoat to Willy's more masculine form the day before. Once she had finished, she handed the waistcoat to Willy, who tried it on. While still a little tight, it now fitted and, thanks to the more loose fit, it did partially conceal the unwanted cleavage. Willy slipped on his frockcoat and looked down, smiling slightly as he adjusted the pocket watch chain.

"You, madam, are a genius," he said with a full grin in Mrs Bucket's direction.

"Anytime."

"Onwards and upwards!" said Willy with a high-pitched giggle, heading back to the elevator.

"Willy—one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Try to lower your voice by an octave or so." Willy gaped for a moment, and then nodded thoughtfully.

"I'll bear that in mind," he said finally, stepping into the elevator.

* * *

_Edmund's left brain here;_

What's up? Hope you all like our little idea. This is really fun to write, so I hope it's fun to read. Sorry about the bit of the wait, this would have been posted sooner if not for a series of (unfortunate) events as far as typing and email glitches are concerned. But it's here now! So, rejoice, party, and whatever in the name of funny fiction. Also, I'd like to send a big shout out to Edmund's right brain for being able to resurrect the last bits of the fic _twice_. What would I be without you? Why, a half of a brain, of course. And we don't want that, do we? Also… if anyone can find the (vague) homage to Sleepy Hollow, you'll get some sort of recognition. It's obscure, though… you'll have to be as obsessive as… well, me to catch it. :P

_Edmund's right brain here;_

Hope you're all enjoying the story so far. Don't worry - there's plenty more to come from Willy (or should that be Wilhelmina?) and his, ahem, problem. It's far too much fun to write to stop yet! I'd like to apologise for the wait as well - it took me far too long to beta this. Please let us know how we're doing by reviewing, and many thanks to all those who have done so already.


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